"You do know, don't you, that Christmas isn't really a 'Christian' holiday? It's merely a Pagan festival that was used as a ruse during the middle ages. Very interesting, really, but I don't see why we should still celebrate it, knowing it's a sham. Seems kind of pointless, doesn't it?"

Susan sat down in the high-backed cloth covered chair across from the fireplace as she said this, not seeing the knowing looks that passed between the other three Pevensies. Around the wood paneled walls above her twinkling white strings of lights were strung up, a roaring orange fire burned behind the grate, and Lucy decorated the Christmas tree in one corner of the room with ornaments while Edmund unpacked them from boxes that were stacked hither-tither around the room. The thing, Susan thought, was a complete monstrosity, really, practically choked with all of the sparkling silver tinsel and glass orbs that Lucy had piled onto it. But she really didn't know any better, so none of her older, more appraising siblings mentioned it to her.

"You take all the fun out of it, Susan. Just try to enjoy the holidays! Come on... no school, no war, just presents and eggnog and snow. Let's be a family this Christmas, even if Mum and Dad can't be here..." A heavy silence had fallen over the room, and Peter trailed off. No one looked at each other for a few moments, a sullen atmosphere filling the air as they all worried for their parents, especially their father.

After a bit, Peter jumped up from where he sat on the floor and clapped his hands with false enthusiasm. "Let's really get this tree started, why don't we?", he exclaimed, crossing the room to stand with Ed and Lucy. He reached into a box and pulled out a horrendous, huge ornament in the shape of a blue reindeer made from papier mache and grinned. Holding it dangling on one finger stretched in front of him, he called to Susan. "Come on, Su, come help us out. It'll be fun...", he taunted. A lock of blonde hair fell into his eyes as he laughed, and he pushed it from his face with his free hand, still looking at her with his bright blue eyes.

Suddenly everyone was staring at her, waiting, it seemed. She squirmed in her seat for a moment, uncomfortable. "No, I think I'll just go to bed. It's getting late, anyway", she said with a kind of uneasy half-smile. Peter stopped grinning, shrugged, and turned back to the tree. Under his breath, but still loud enough for Susan to catch it, Edmund whispered, "I knew it" with a dull expression on his face, and Lucy looked a little sad but resigned as she started carefully to string more multicolored lights over the branches. No one said good night to her as she left the room. Susan was much too proud to let them see that it had hurt her, so she kept her face expressionless as she walked by them towards the door. Edmund and Lucy were already arguing jovially again before she was even gone.

***

A shiny mother-of-pearl clip sits on the dresser. She picks it up and pulls back her hair with it. Then she takes off her earrings, washes her face and brushes her hair and teeth. She slips on her soft white nightgown. Today is Wednesday, so it has little faded pink roses on it. Finally, she pulls back the sheets and slides into bed. They're cool, and it feels good contrasted with the toasty warmth from the fires burning in the house and the little space heaters in every room. There's a hot water bottle at her feet, too, just in case they get too cold.

Susan sighs. She feels like such a bad person all the time, but she can't stop herself. Things just come out before she has the chance to think about it, or she feels like she has to act a certain way because it's expected of her. Or something like that. She really isn't sure; she just knows that it's hard to get to sleep some nights because of it. Like tonight. Why did she have to act so cold towards everyone? Right now, they were the only family she had, and they tried hard to include her in everything, put up with her banalities... she sighed again, and turned over onto her left side, facing the wall. "I will close my eyes, I will shut up, and I will go to sleep. I've spent too much time worrying over this. I'm sure everyone else will have forgotten by now, anyway."

Try as she might, though, the sleep would not come. With a creaking of bedsprings, Susan heaved herself up, turned over, pulled back the blankets and got out of bed. The clock on the wall beside the little cot read 2:21. Great. Well, it couldn't be helped. She would just try to be quiet. On tiptoes she creeped around the dark corners of the wide hallways until she found the kitchen. It wasn't hard to see, as there were always lamps left on throughout the house at night.

She felt like a cup of hot chocolate, but she really didn't want to do all of the work for it, so she settled for warm milk. A small saucepan was already out on the stove, so she just rinsed it and poured in the milk. Heating milk was a delicate process, so she stood in front of the stove to keep a close eye on it, making sure it didn't boil and scald. When it was just barely steaming, she took down a tall, simple cylindrical glass and poured it in. She took a prim sip, making a little "mm" noise in the back of her throat, and turned to go sit at the table in the opposite corner of the room.

Just as she did, Peter came into the room, dressed in his dark blue robe and plaid pajamas. They both stopped suddenly, each a little rattled by the unexpected appearance of the other. Susan snapped out of it first, after just a second, and sat down at the table. Peter went to the cabinet and pulled out a plate, a knife, some bread and a block of cheese, and set about making a sandwich. Neither of them said anything, and the only sounds were of the knife hitting the counter and the glass hitting the table.

After a while Peter came over to the table, plate in hand. He pulled out the chair across from Susan, and without looking at her, began eating his sandwich. The silence was overwhelming. Susan wanted to say something, to say sorry, but it was hard to muster up the courage, and she was notoriously proud, besides. There was also the chance that Peter might ignore her or get angry with her, angrier than he already was, anyway. It took her a few moments, and she almost walked away.

"I can't do it. There's no way I can leave with him this mad at me.", she thought to herself. On the table, her hands tapped out a nervous little rythym. Finally, when she couldn't take the silence anymore, she started, "Peter...I'm sorry. For earlier. I mean, I didn't mean...I mean, what I'm trying to say is..." For the first time in ages, Susan was lost for words.

Peter looked up. "Su, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to act like you don't care. You're just worried about Mum and Dad, I know. We all are. Try not to be so uptight next time, though, okay?"

"What? Uptight? How da...", she began, outraged, but then trailed off. Peter's old familiar grin had come back, and he was tearing the cheese sandwich on his plate into two. "Want half?", he asked. Nodding, she took it. Now she felt like a fool, but deep down she was really relieved. She smiled back at Peter, and took a bite.

***

"One, two, three..." Hands closed over her eyes. The sounds of scuffling feet, doors closing and opening, giggling. Lucy had decided they should play hide-and-go-seek again, just like the day they had discovered Narnia in the wardrobe. It was kind of like deja vu, only something was different this time. It had been decided, also, that they would play in pairs. Edmund and Lucy had agreed to go together, so that meant Susan was stuck with Peter. Well, not stuck, it's not like it was bad or anything. It was just that his hands on her cheeks were so warm...warmer than normal, it seemed. As though he might have a fever or something such.

"Fifty-two, fifty-three", Peter continued. Susan really was getting worried now. His hands weren't just warm anymore, they were positively burning. "Peter", she interrupted him on sixty-seven, and turned around, pulling herself from his grasp.

"What?", he asked, slightly annoyed. His eyebrows were all crumpled together.

"You feel hot. I think you might have a fever. Are you feeling sick or anything? Dizzy? What about your head? Does it hurt? You don't have vertigo, do you?" she rambled on for a moment, then thought of a better idea. "Just stand still, there", she commanded him, her tone getting a little sharper now.

"Yes, master", Peter began, sarcastically. "You know, I don't see why you're making such a fuss. It's probably..." Susan placed the palm of her hand against his forehead. "nothing", he finished, in a hushed tone. They stood there for a minute, Susan concentrating determinedly on gauging his temperature, staring at her hand hard, her forehead creased.

"Susan, your hand...it's cold.", Peter said after a few moments of silence. His voice was still low, and it sounded a little strange to Susan. She lowered her gaze to look into his eyes, then started taking her hand away. "Sorry", she replied, "but it really does feel like you might be getting one. A fever, I mean."

Peter talked over her. "No!" His sister looked up at him again, bewildered. He had grabbed her hand where it hung suspended over his face as she tried to lower it from his forehead. "I mean...don't move your hand. It felt good...the coldness, I mean. I guess I must have a touch of fever, after all." He laughed nervously, and that persistent lock of hair fell into his eyes again. Susan brushed it away before she could think twice. She heard Peter's sharp intake of breath right before he let go her hand.

Thudding noises resounded in the hallway outside, and Peter started laughing nervously, trying to ease some of the tension, but Susan just stared until the two younger Pevensie children ran into the room. "Susan, Peter, where were you? We've been waiting ages!" Lucy exclaimed, out of breath.

"We were coming just now, silly!", Susan said, feigning excitement as she turned towards Lucy and Edmund with a smile. "How far away were you two dunces, anyway?", chimed in Peter. Susan glanced at him in surprise. "We just now got to ninety-eight."

"Oh, really? We'll just have to change the time to fifty, then. That felt like way too long!", said Edmund. Then, "Let's go get something to eat. I'm hungry now from all that hiding stuff."

Susan looked back at Peter again as they walked from the library. His hand was on his forehead.

***

Christmas crept closer and closer. It was only a week or so away now. Presents started to accumulate under the gaudy tree in the parlor. Trying to act nonchalant, Susan ignored her presents and sat in the white high-backed chair again, reading from a huge book that might possibly have been a dictionary, as her brothers and sister sifted through looking for theirs. She blocked out the peals of delight and the teasing voices for as long as she could hold, which thankfully enough was just after everyone else had tired of searching and retired to the kitchen or the yard for snowball fights.

She had been itching for the chance to check out her gifts, and now the opporotunity presented itself to her. She wasn't going to pass it up. Looking both ways, she carefully set down the book and crept over to the tree. Once she was kneeling beside it, she read each present's nametag carefully until she had amassed a small pile of boxes, making a mental note of where each had been so that she could make it look as though they had never been moved.

There were five packages with her name on them. Two were from the professor, and by the looks of them were books, or so Susan guessed. Not bad, especially for an old man, from whom one would ususally receive socks or pencils or the dreaded abacus. After she had thoroughly inspected these, she placed them back where they belonged.

The other three were, she assumed, from her siblings. The first one that she picked up was thin, wrapped in red paper printed with Santa Claus rabbits. This one was from Lucy. Hmmm... she weighed it in her palm, held it up to the light coming in through the tall windows, examined it for rips. It was, to the best of her knowledge, a coloring book. Well, at least she had tried.

The next was from Edmund. Susan was surprised even to find one from him. He was usually so irresponsible with his money, and almost always forgot to save up for Christmastime. There it was, though, and she took it into her lap. It was a middlish square box, light as if it were filled with cotton. Probably marbles. Edmund was obsessed with marbles, and thought everyone else was,too.

"Only one left", she thought as she put back the other two. This one was from Peter, of course. A small box, not wrapped in paper, but green and velvety with a white ribbon tied around it. She wondered what it could be. She thought to toss it up in the air, but then caught herself. What if it was something breakable? Heaven knows she would have just the luck to break it.

With a small sigh, she stared hard at it, trying to give it one more shot. Nothing came to her. She set it softly back under the tree, running her hands over the velveteen material. From outside the faint sounds of laughter, Lucy's joyful screams, and dull thuddings relayed in her ears. She looked at the box one more time and went back to the impossibly large book.

***

Susan glanced at the plain white and black calender that hung on the wall opposite her bed. It read 23 in large numbers. Her eyes stayed on it for a moment, then with a short sigh she reached out and pulled the sheet off, crumpling it up in her fist. Now it said 24. Only one more day to go before the holidays were over.

They had all had so much fun this past week. There were snowball fights(which Susan had finally, reluctantly joined in on), games of ball and snowman building. Lucy and Peter had even tried setting up a nativity scene in a little valley covered in snow that stretched in front of the house. Silly fools, they nearly froze to death, wading out in the waist high drifts. They'd had to wear hot packs on their toes for three days.

She couldn't believe she was thinking it, but Susan honestly did not want this week to end. Before, in the city, holidays had never been much fun, with their mother having to work on all of their birthdays this past year, and a shortage of everything meaning not even a candle to blow out or cake to eat, much less presents.

Here with the professor, though, it seemed none of their wants or needs went unmet. The children weren't reluctant to see their parents again, of course; they wanted that more than anything in the world, just to see their faces, if only for a moment. It was the house and the warmth, the slowness and general quality of living that they would be sad to leave behind. Not to mention Narnia, although Susan had a feeling that wherever they went, Narnia would not be far behind, even if it only carried on in their hearts.

"Try and shake off those kinds of thoughts, silly girl", she told herself, sternly. "Don't ruin Christmas moping about like this. Cheer up, cheer up, cheer up!!" And pinching her cheeks a few times, she left her room to start the day, trailing behind her the faint scent of roses as she went.

***